Dead Earth
by fanoncannon
Summary: Jay finds himself more alone than he's used to being.


One morning, Jay woke up alone. Which was not, in itself, unusual, so it took about half an hour for him to notice. All the TV channels were dead. There were no sounds of passing cars outside his window, no slamming doors or cleaners threatening to invade his personal space.

Nobody at the front desk.

Nobody on the streets.

Nobody at the diner along the street that he'd been eating at the past three days.

Cars left empty, parked neatly on the curb.

Panic set in slowly, curled up around his lungs and clutched tight, while his brain wrestled with it, kept it from squeezing the air out entirely. He tried to rationalize it, told himself he'd just managed to miss everyone. Maybe he had forgotten a holiday. He nearly forgot the fourth of July last year, was nearly given a heart attack by the fireworks - he had stayed in an extra-scummy hotel and assumed it was gunfire. He had been too busy with everything in his life to remember that other people usually didn't have to stay hidden, had family and friends and celebrations to fill the days.

He made the most of the empty roads and put his foot down on the gas pedal. Speeding was always good for stress relief.

##

The doors slid open at the Wal-Mart fourteen miles from his hotel. No greeter. No staff. No customers.

He stammered out a nervous "Hello?", which echoed pitifully off the walls. Again, louder, and a third time.

"Is anyone there?"

He grabbed a basket, loaded it up with junk food he hadn't been able to afford for years. His heart raced as he walked out the door, wondered if anything he had would set off the security barriers. When they didn't, he went back for liquor, waved the security tag between the doors. Lights flashed. Alarms blared. Nobody came.

He left the bottle behind. Didn't like brandy anyway.

##

It was nearly evening before he thought to call Tim. It took an hour after realizing he could before he worked up the courage to do it, held back by the possibility nobody would answer. Lonely was bad. Totally alone was terrifying.

His thumb shook as he dialed the number, stomach churned (worse than usual, as it was full of candy, having gorged on his stolen goods like a child on Halloween).

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings later, Tim answered, and Jay's heart stopped hammering so hard on his ribcage.

He hadn't even noticed. He'd had a headache all day, drawn the curtains, clamped his pillow over his head to avoid sound - he had only been awake for an hour and hadn't left the house. He said he'd call back.

He texted Jay instead, just after midnight. "Went out. Thought you were screwing with me. Come over in the morning. -Tim."

##

They loaded up Tim's car the next day, with food and blankets, drove for miles, searching for any sign of life, any light in a window, any moving vehicle.

They set off in the early morning and gave up, turned back, when they hit the border to South Carolina. Nothing was even worth investigating. They went slow through busier towns, but the only lights glowed above empty restaurants and shops. Jay shivered as they passed a TV display in an electronics store, every screen showing test cards.

There was a quiet mutual understanding that they didn't speak about why they were doing this. Treated it as a road trip. Pretended everything was normal. Barely talked, just put on CDs - every radio station they tried was silent or static - and watched the world fly by.

That went well until Tim snapped.

He slammed the brakes without warning, got out on the middle of the highway and walked across it laughing in short sharp bursts.

"Tim?"

"Don't." He stopped laughing as soon as Jay spoke, like a switch had been flicked. He hopped the median, outstretched his arms, yelled, "Why is this happening?" Jay backed up towards the car, tried to say 'I don't know' but he was cut off by Tim, continuing, "Did you do something? Why the fuck are you the only other person left? Why am I able to do this? Just dance about on the damn highway without getting killed?"

Jay shook his head, unable to answer. Tim ran his fingers through his hair and screamed, sunk to his knees on the concrete. He didn't move until Jay followed, crouched beside him, said his name soothingly. As soon as he lay his hand on Tim's shoulder, he flinched away, walked back to the car. Restarted the engine. Yelled "Get in."

They didn't talk for the rest of the drive back.

They didn't talk for the rest of the evening.

Jay slept outside in his car, instead of taking the couch as he had the night before.

##

The next afternoon, they were back on speaking terms. Tim quietly apologized for blaming Jay. Jay let it slide. No point holding grudges against the person you're stuck with.

There weren't any television channels that still worked. Tim had his internet cut off after he lost his last job, neglected the bill one time too many, so they spent a day searching for any surviving open wifi. They took their laptops to a Starbucks five blocks down from Tim's, found it still working, albeit slowly.

It was almost a relief to find no activity on totheark's channel. Less relieving was the lack of activity anywhere. No news. No tweets. No videos.

Jay was a little sick of 'nothing'.

He tweeted into the void; "Woke up and everyone seems to have disappeared. Drove for miles looking for life. Can't find anyone except Tim. Is anyone out there?"

"Anyone?"

"Please."

##

They filled days playing video games. Neither of them wanted to be the first to suggest doing nothing constructive and having fun, but as soon as Tim asked how Jay felt about Halo, handing him a controller, he laughed a nervous shaky laugh of relief, answered, "I've never played it but I think I want to more than anything right now."

It wasn't laziness - it was that they felt like they could finally relax. They suspected, deep down, that this had something to do with what they had dealt with the past few years, knew they'd have to do something eventually: but there was no boss calling Tim asking him why the hell he hadn't turned up and putting him on probation; no angry hotel staff asking Jay if he ever planned on paying for his room; no jerk at the grocery store making snide comments to his girlfriend about how they looked like they were homeless; and, most importantly, no sign of the tall terrifying abomination with no face.

He was reluctant to say it out loud, but Jay didn't totally hate the whole last two people on earth thing. It had its benefits.

##

Five days in, Jay's cell rang. He kept it charged partly out of habit, partly in case someone tweeted him. It was a number he didn't recognize.

Her voice was quiet and shaky as it said 'hello', just like his had been when he first called Tim.

"Jessica?"

"Yeah. I. Um. Okay, good. Do you have any idea what's going on? And are you safe?"

He felt his stomach shift a bit. He hadn't even thought about her. Guilt set in fast, his brain beating him up, asking why he didn't even think to try out her old number. Selfish. Drag her into this mess and don't even try to see if she's okay.

He stifled his thoughts to reply, "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just as confused as you are though. Are you okay? Where are you?"

She was unwilling to give out her location - reasonably, he thought - but said she'd make her way out to meet him.

When she arrived a couple of hours later, she was cautious, guarded, barely spoke. Neither of them blamed her - reasonable, when her only memory of Jay was as a stranger she hung out with for a few days before disappearing god knows where - reassured her that she was safe with them.

Knowing she was alive made them think, wondered who else would still be here. They rang all their old friends that night, confronted with answer phone messages for the most part.

(Jay was happy to hear their voices again. It had been a long time since he'd heard most of them, too scared to get them hurt by association.)

Brian was the only one that picked up: He was just as confused as them, missing several months' worth of memory, on top of this, and somewhere in Arizona - he told them he'd start driving in the morning.

None of them dared to suggest calling Alex.

##

It took a few days before Jessica relaxed around them totally - she revealed she'd brought a gun but admitted she didn't think she would have been able to use it even if Jay was really threatening her. Still, she put it back in her purse, kept it close to her.

She hit it off with Brian. She didn't get to say hello at first - nobody did, except Tim, who hugged him so hard he couldn't breathe, and wouldn't stop talking to him long enough to let anyone else even say hello. It was like watching them back at college.

Jay realized it was the least troubled he'd ever seen Tim. He was laughing, flirting a little with Jessica, and when he did get headaches, they disappeared after only a couple Advil. He wasn't even this calm before.

They decided to steal some mattresses from neighbors, turned Tim's living room into a wall-to-wall bed/blanket fortress. Everyone except Brian got drunk off stolen alcohol that night (Brian hated the beer they'd taken from the grocery store and didn't want to put on pants to go get something he liked.) They discussed the ethics of taking things - Jessica pointed out that if people started coming back they might want their stuff back. Tim told her to cross that bridge if they came to it, and, more importantly, to chill the fuck out and enjoy herself. She faked offense, but handed him another beer when he asked, and shared her marshmallows with him.

Everyone seemed so carefree that Jay pushed down his gut feeling that something was wrong, apart from the obvious.

Besides, why ruin a good thing while it lasted? If something bad was going to happen, it would happen (probably would happen). No point tainting what little happiness he had found. And it wasn't like he had anyone to miss - he had more friends now than he had before everyone disappeared. None of them had any grudges against each other - or, at least, couldn't remember them. Brian didn't remember the past year. Jessica, the past five months. If anyone had done anything atrocious, it was in the past and lost to them forever.

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, _he told himself.

_Don't point out that living on an empty earth is gonna become an issue sooner or later._

_Don't point out that if they're all alive, Alex probably is too._

_Don't think about how he is._

_Don't dare to hope that he's back to the way he was before._

He sipped on his beer and listened to Brian, who was full of stories, and good at telling them. He listened to Jessica's laugh (really cute, he thought, a quiet giggle that she hid behind her hands), and admired Tim's smile, a thing he never thought he'd see.


End file.
